Heartbeats
by The Skye Skye
Summary: John met Jim at the dullest, darkest point in his life, and never looked back. Jim wanted John as an employee, and got so much more than he bargained for. And Sherlock Holmes is the only thing that stands a chance of destroying it all. Dark!John fic.
1. Invitation

_**Hey guys! This is my newest story, I've caught the Jim/John bug and it won't go away, so here is a fic I'm writing for this all too neglected pairing. It is, by far, my favorite!Also, keep in mind that all my works are unbeat'd so any mistakes are mine. I do my best! Sorry! XD Please leave me some feedback! And if you have any John/Jim fic reccommendations for me, please send them my way! Enjoy!**_

**Heartbeats**

**Chapter One**

**Invitation**

The moment John's feet hit London pavement again he felt a strange sense of loss. There were other like him, injured, pieced back together in a hurry and placed on a plane to return home. Invalided. John's military career was now over. He licked his lips hurriedly as he picked up his bag with his good arm, his other in a sling. It was hard to make that first step, but by the fifth step, John was growing numb inside, and he was beginning to sag.

Three days later, John began to limp...

Three days after that, John saw a therapist for the first time...

John found himself seated across from a woman of color who held herself well. Composed, firm, and lacking most human warmth that John wished he had in his life. When he'd first returned, staying with Harry was his only option. He'd cut that short, kept it brief, and left with a cast off phone for a gift and a begging plea to "Keep in touch" from his already quite inebriated sister. Now he was here, a cane propped up against his chair as he avoided direct eye contact and questions he didn't have good answers for.

"What do you want to do now that you're home, John? What is it you really desire?" she asked calmly. John glanced out the window and sighed.

_Danger... Adventure... A rush... _he thought to himself.

"A normal, peaceful, sensible life I s'pose. I have a chance at that again." he said softly, his tone somber.

Yes, the rush. He needed the rush. The army had been his way to satisfy a craving in him that he really had no control over. When he was a younger man, he'd played competitive sports. He played rugby, joined wrestling, and even swim team all to distract himself from his desire for danger, mischief, and chaos. It hardly worked. Sometimes he'd pick fights just for the rush of hitting another person, and other times he'd commit a petty crime like theft or perhaps vandalism. These activities created a war inside John that he could hardly control as he grew. His desire for the rush of it battled against his moral compass until John was unsure if he could handle it.

It was in Uni that John realized he had a very severe problem. John had picked a fight while a bit drunk and nearly killed the other young man. He was so ashamed of his loss of control, that he decided it was time to put his desires to good use. He signed up and became an army doctor. The lives of hundreds passed through his hands and he was able to save lives as easily as he was able to take them away. The gunfire, the smell of blood and sweat heavy in the desert air. It was like home. And now... He was here again. This den of rules, regulations, restrictions, and no outlet anymore. Nothing could ever compare to what he'd felt when he gunned down the enemy or pulled a bullet from a gaping, gushing wound in another man.

John wasn't able to control himself once home for very long. The first thing he did when his resolve broke was steal a pack of gum. It was such a simple thing. A single pack of gum. That one thing was such a strange feeling of relief washing over him that he could hardly contain the ecstasy it brought. It wasn't long after that, that he began to try newer, more dangerous forms of theft. Picking pockets became a new hobby. John kept every ID in a box beneath his bed like trophies.

After a while, the rush of theft wasn't enough. Hobbling about the streets of London on a bad leg with a cane grew tiresome. So, he resorted to something a little more dastardly. A mugging. It had been so easy. He'd simply dropped his cane and threw himself to the ground. When he cried out for help, the man had rushed so willing to his aid, right into the trap. He never saw John coming.

One mugging lead to a string of muggings, all a bit different but principally the same. It was a pattern and John was forced to quit, thankful no one had gotten a good enough look at him to identify him.

John found himself spiralling into apathy soon after. What more could he do? He lacked the creativity to continue with something new, and found himself utterly out of ideas and options for his only outlet. So time went on...

It wasn't until one agonizing month later, that John's boredom was shattered. At his little squalor flat one day, he was delivered a parcel. There was a knock on his door, and when he answered in confusion, all there was, was a small box on his doormat.

It was a plain looking parcel, wrapped in brown paper and addressed to simply "John" as if the sender knew him personally. John wasted no time going to his desk and opening the mysterious package. Inside the paper was a plain black box. John lifted the lid and within there was a Baretta M9 pistol, and a card. John was alarmed by the contents and looked around nervously as if he'd be caught. He felt the blood rushing through his veins in that familiar, intense, and gratifying way. He was practically trembling with the high of it as he plucked the clearly expensive card stock from the box and read the carefully scripted note on it's textured surface.

_I've taken notice of your activities. You have potential, John. This is an unregistered gift, from me to you. If you're looking for something more than petty muggings, bring it to Pordue's Tailor and tell them I sent you. I have faith you won't go to the police with this. Where would the fun be in that?_

_ Sincerely,_  
><em> Moriarty<em>

Caught completely off guard by this strange package and note, John wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, he was dealing with someone clearly dangerous, who knew about what he'd been doing, and had access to unregistered weapons and he shouldn't involve himself with an individual so powerful. On the other, this was the most interesting thing that had happened to him since he quit mugging people, and he craved a new rush, a new distraction. It didn't take long to make up his mind. He decided to go. It wasn't until John was up and dressed, heading for the door with this illegal weapon tucked in the back of his jeans that he realized...

_"I won't go to the police..."_ he said softly to himself, as if surprised by his own behavior. He shook his head and laughed softly, startled and impressed at the same time. It was as if the sender had predicted his future. He really hadn't considered going. Not even for a moment. John ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. There was something terribly wrong with him. And he was feeding into it.

When he arrived at the building he was a little startled by how posh the place was. It was way beyond John's pay grade (considering he was living on the dole) and he felt odd going in there in his jumper and jeans. When he stepped inside he felt like he was walking into a ballroom instead of a Tailor. He glanced around nervously and approached the receptionists table, eyeing the brunette behind the counter almost warily. She was around her late thirties, curvy, and she gave off a definite aura of dominance as well as sensuality. Her torso was hugged by a black corset over a white blouse with a knee length black pencil skirt. Her long legs were slipped into black hosiery and disappeared beneath the desk, out of John's sight.

"Uhm. Hi." John greeted with a small half wave, practically oozing his awkwardness into the air around him. The woman looked up and raised a brow.

"Can I help you?" she inquired in a somewhat bored tone as she eyed John's appearance quite critically. John swallowed uneasily and his tongue darted over his lips nervously. He rocked forward onto the balls of his feet.

"M... Moriarty sent me." John stated in a ragged whisper. The woman's face lit up with recognition and she stood immediately, her expression melting into a warm smile.

"You must be John." she said, her tone suddenly worlds more inviting than before. He was taken aback and even more intrigued by the fact that this 'Moriarty' character had really planned all of this out. "I've been expecting you."

She stepped out from behind the table and took John by the hand and lead him back into a back room where measurements were obviously taken in private. He was startled by the suddenness of her pushing him to sit down on a stool in the center of the room.

"I'm sorry, and you are?" John inquired of her. She didn't respond with her name, merely held up a finger and smiled at him, before turning on her heel and heading down a short hall to the left of where John sat.

"Wait here." she said firmly. So John waited. Uncomfortable as the situation was, John's heart was hammering in his chest with excitement and a strange sense of joy. This was the most fun he'd had in what felt like ages. When the woman returned she was carrying a garment bag.

"Strip down, love." she instructed calmly, as if it were the most normal of requests. John froze, giving her a bewildered stare. She huffed and shook her head.

"Now, John. Wouldn't want to keep Moriarty waiting." she insisted as she unzipped the bag to reveal an incredibly expensive suit beneath.

"Wh... Am I meant to wear that?" he asked, not sure how to respond to all of this. The woman nodded quickly and John knew he couldn't bring himself to leave. So he stripped off his jumper and jeans and with the woman helping him, put on every piece of the suit ensemble. It was a deep navy color, almost black, with pale periwinkle pinstriping. The stripes were so thin they weren't at first visible. His dress shirt underneath was a shade of baby blue made masculine by the solid navy blue silk tie, held in place with a white gold tie clip. The woman made him slip on a pair of rather functional yet still stylish (far too stylish for John's taste) black boots, and a pair of leather gloves. John tucked his gun into the back of his slacks and adjusted all the clothes which fit him like they were a second skin.

As he examined himself in the mirror he wasn't sure what to make of himself. He looked smart, but almost dangerous. His body looked good while gripped in designer fabrics. The woman gave a content sigh and then handed him a card with an address on it as he finished up fixing his cuffs and collar one last time before a full length mirror. John took the card and then looked at the woman questioningly.

"What's this?" he inquired, to which he received a roll of the eyes from her.

"Get a cab and go there. Moriarty will be waiting." she said, ushering him to the front and out the door. John stopped on the threshold and looked to the woman again.

"I never did catch your name." he said, meeting her eyes. Her lips quirked into a smirk.

"Irene. Now go." she said, giving him a push and shutting the door behind him. John stared at the door a moment longer before heading down to the street and hailing a taxi. He rattled off the address to the driver and sat back with a sigh. He watched downtown fade into warehouses and soon he was stopped in front of an old shoe factory. He got out and paid the cabby who scoffed at him and drove away, leaving John to stare up at the building, slightly anxious. He hadn't even noticed he'd left his cane behind.

He stepped through the slightly ajar door and into the building wandering around for a while. He called out, a few times, and to his chagrin, no one answered. It wasn't until John had nearly given up, that he was greeted with some form of response. The dimly lit warehouse was suddenly was filled with lights that all switched on at once nearly blinding John, who threw up his arm to shield his eyes as they adjusted.

"Johnny!" came an all too warm and cheery Irish lilt. "You made it! I'm _so _glad!"

John blinked until his vision cleared and he was able to get a good look at the man at the other end of the room who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. He was well dressed, dark haired, dark eyed, pale skinned, slight bodied, and... Grinning like a madman. John nodded, slowly stepping closer.

"Yeah. Uh... Thanks for... the gun and... Suit. Uhm. What exactly is it you... want?" John asked as the man who he could only assume was Moriarty also stepped closer. They stopped at a safe distance of a couple yards apart.

"Jim, Jim Moriarty." the man said to John, extending his hand. John was forced to come closer and shake it. Jim's grip was firm and commanding and John was a little caught off guard by it. Jim shook his head slowly, as if in disbelief. "And you are quite welcome. It was my pleasure, really. And I'll get to what I want, as soon as you pass my little test."

John felt his body tensing, his heart skipping a beat as his mind ran through all the possibilities. The anticipation alone was almost too much to bear. Jim looked him up and down as John stepped back, his eyes so hungry that John felt naked and exposed under their gaze.

"What test?" John asked, his voice cracking a bit, his mouth going dry. Jim giggled. _Giggled. _

"Sebaaaaastiiian!" Jim called in a sing-songy voice that made John want to cringe. There was something almost sadistic and dark about the way Jim looked and sounded just then. John found himself wondering _"God, why does __**that **__excite me?" _as he witnessed it. A moment later a strong, tall, dark haired man that John guessed was "Sebastian" came into view from a doorway to the left, dragging a struggling, sleezy looking man by his hair out into the room.

"John, do you have your gun?" Moriarty inquired as Sebastian threw the schlumpy man down to the floor between John and Jim. John reached back and pulled the gun out slowly, his fingers itching against the metal that had been warmed by his own body heat. Jim grinned at the sighed and nodded.

"Wonderful. Now shoot this man in the head." Jim instructed.

John's face went from curios to incredulous in seconds.

"What! Why!" John demanded.

Jim sighed.

"John, I provide an important service to the people of the world. A service I think you are well suited toward. That is why you're here. I am being paid to do away with this scumbag. And I'm willing to share the profit with you, if you kill him." Jim explained calmly, a small smile coming to his face as if they were discussing stock exchanges and not murder in the first.

"I won't murder someone for money." John argued, his grip on the gun tightening.

"You mean you won't murder someone for money now that you don't have a good cause to do so." Jim corrected. John's eyes widened as Jim tutted at him, shaking his head. "Johnny, I know all about you. I know about your habits as a young man. Your fights at Uni, and about why you sighed up for the army. I can see it in your eyes. You're like Sebastian here. You need that danger to make life interesting. You need that rush to be content. I gave it to him. And I can give it to you. I'll even give you a cause... I'm being paid to kill this man for what he did to my employer's daughter. He raped her... a seventeen year old girl. Honor student, track champion. A sweet girl... I was more than happy to undertake the task of putting her tormentor out of his misery for a meager fee. Are you?"

John stood there, stunned, unable to formulate a good response to this situation. He stared at Jim for a while, then down at the man who was struggling against his binds furiously, growling against a gag in his mouth. Jim cleared his throat.

"I'm waiting John." Jim said, his voice thick with barely contained frustration. John looked up at Moriarty again, meeting his eyes.

"How do I know you're not lying?" John asked, clicking the safety off. Jim's lips stretched into a smirk as he met John's eyes, his own twinkling with mischief.

"You don't." came his simple reply.

There was a long moment of painfully tense silence... And then John pulled the trigger.

_**Don't forget to review! **_


	2. Job

_**Hey guys! Thanks for waiting for this update. Sorry it took so long. If you read "Persistence of Memory" you know that my dad passed away on February 13**__**th**__**, and I took some time away. I'm back into my writing now and I really am loving this story thus far. Thank you for all your feedback, please keep it coming! Enjoy! **_

**Heartbeats**

**Chapter Two**

**Job**

John felt a familiar quiet overtake him and something in his belly began to hum and burn. His whole world went still and he soaked in the singing of a bullet whizzing through the air, the loud bang as the shot ignited. It was intense and when he watched the man's eyes grow dull and his body slack with death, his whole body trembled. The faintest twitch of a smile caught the corner of his mouth, but the sensible man in John quickly pulled it back. On the inside he was spinning with rapture, but on the outside he was cool and in total control.

It was blissfully quiet for a minute or two, and then, soft laughter and a round of one-man applause broke through. John looked up from the dead body on the ground and his eyes met the softest brown he'd ever seen. Moriarty's face was alight with warmth and pride. He was clapping and grinning. Just beyond him, Sebastian was smirking and his eyes glinted with admiration. When John met his eyes, Sebastian gave a wink and a slight nod in his direction.

"Well _done_, Doctor Watson. You are far more than I could have hoped for... Wonderful... Just... _Wonderful." _Moriarty praised, stepping over the body between himself and John so he was closer. He looked John up and down, fingering the lapel of John's jacket right over his heart. He slid his finger down one delicate pinstripe and his eyes followed his fingers movements. John felt a chill run through him and he let out a shaky breath.

"Thank you." John said calmly, feeling the light touches of Jim's fingers as they slid back up his suit jacket to pat him on the shoulder. Jim's eyes were quickly on John's face again. He was still smiling, though there was something slightly more sultry behind his gaze now.

"You're very... _veeeery _welcome. Now... You've more than passed the test. What do you say, John. Come work for me..." Jim beckoned, his hand still resting over John's heart. John licked his lips quickly and glanced around a bit as he searched for a reason to turn Jim down.

He couldn't think of one.

"What's the position?" John inquired. Jim clapped his hands together and giggled, stepping back and walking around John as if he were holding onto a great secret. John turned to watch Jim as the criminal walked a few feet away and tucked his hands into his pockets. Jim spun on his heel to face John, brows raised and eyes half lidded, and lips pulled into a mischievous smirk.

"My personal body guard and physician. Seb here is better in the feild. I need someone with a penchant for danger and impeccable fighting skills, but... I also need someone with a gentle touch." Jim replied in a more serious tone. "A real... Sincere _bedside..._manner..."

John swallowed, took a breath and acted as if he didn't already have his mind made up. He wanted this. He wanted it bad.

"What does the position require?" he asked.

Jim's face became more devious and his cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

"That you are at my side twenty-four hours a day... Seven days a week. You'd live with me, care for me if need be, and watch my back... In return, I'll pay you handsomely and ensure that you are never without a... _fix... _When you need one."

John took a deep breath and forced himself to pause. In the back of his mind he knew this was wrong. But every inch of him was screaming for this. He was still feeling the charge of taking that man's life only minutes ago. It was almost impossible to resist moaning at the thought of never having to go without. Somehow, John held it together, and his tumult of thoughts and emotions remained concealed under his military mask.

Jim broke into a grin as John extended his hand to him. He took it and shook firmly.

"I'll be taking that position then." John said firmly. Jim nodded.

"You start immediately. Sebastian will take you back to your flat. Gather what little personal things you want to keep. Leave behind your clothes and any furniture. My men will take care of the rest of that. A new wardrobe will be made up for you. My employees must dress to impress. And I must say, you _do _impress in this wonderful ensemble. My tailors do _goooorgeous _work, do they not?" Jim patted John's forearm and then released his hand and stepped back. John was almost immediately overwhelmed at his own decision.

His whole life was about to change. His entire world was going to be turned upside down. Sebastian approached him and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Come with me, then." he urged with a warm smile. John nodded, his eyes wide and mouth drawn into a tight line. He was somewhat in shock still.

"I'll see you soon, John." Jim sing-songed to John's retreating form. Sebastian patted John firmly on the back and grinned.

"You made the right choice. You're going to love this Job." Sebastian assured, noting John's paling face. John chuckled weakly and nodded, glancing back to see Jim inspecting the body which was slowly growing surrounded by a puddle of blood. Sebastian guided him out of the building to an awaiting car.

"I expect I shall." John agreed quietly, letting Sebastian open the door for him. John slipped in with Sebastian following right behind him. They fell into companionable silence after Sebastian instructed the driver as to where they were going. John felt like everything that followed was a whirlwind. He grabbed his gun, some toiletries, his laptop, and his favorite mug from the building, placed them in a suitcase and left it all behind. He never wanted to look back. The broken shell of a man he was when he returned from the war was all over that flat, and leaving it all behind felt like a holy cleansing.

When he got back in the car, they drove for what felt like hours before they arrived at what John assumed was a safe house. It looked like something out of Wuthering Heights, and he could hardly believe his eyes. As he walked up to the door with Sebastian, he noted guards posted all around. They looked like Secret Service and it was intimidating and somewhat exciting.

Though on the outside it looked a bit like a horror novel waiting to happen, inside was richly decorated, warm, and classy. All hardwood floors, Persian rugs, paintings that were likely originals stolen from museums or perhaps purchased anonymously. As they stepped over the threshold and into the parlour, a short and curvy woman was waiting for them. She looked to be in her mid-fourties, with just beginning to gray-blonde hair and hard blue eyes. She was dressed in a yellow sundress with an apron on over it. There was a dusting of flour on the baby blue apron and her hands looked to be a bit dusted as well.

"Master Moriarty is waiting in the dining room for him. I'm about finished with dinner. Please hurry Sebastian, he's getting impatient." the woman said as soon as she laid eyes on the pair. Sebastian gave her a nod and pecked her cheek as he passed, dragging John along with him.

"Thank you Agnes. We won't keep him waiting any longer." Sebastian assured, and then the woman was off, shuffling past them, back to the kitchen to complete her cooking. John wasn't too bothered by the grip on his upper arm that Sebastian had, but he was almost nervous to see Jim again. Sebastian guided him through with a firm hand to the dining room where Jim was seated at the head of a long mahogany dining table. He was in a red satin dressing gown, and beneath it was a pair of black satin pyjamas. Was it really so late already? John wondered. He glanced around and caught sight of a grandfather clock in the corner.

It was indeed well past ten. Jim looked up from a spread of letters on the table before him on the table as John entered and beamed at the pair.

"So glad you could finally join me." he said, though there was an edge to his tone. "For a little while there I thought you might've changed your mind."

John shook his head, stumbling forward as Sebastian nudged him. John walked up to the head of the table and took a seat at Jim's left. He was expecting Sebastian to join them, but when he looked to the other man, he was already walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Jim chuckled softly as he watched John begin to grow immediately nervous.

"Calm down, John. Sebastian isn't going far. He has his own residence in the little building behind this one." Jim said, reaching over to where John's hand rested on the table and covering it with his own. John glanced down at Jim's hand and then back to his face. They gazed into one another's eyes for a brief moment, and then John averted his gaze. His eyes fell then, on the letters.

"What are those?" John inquired. Jim gave a soft and short laugh as he looked down at the letters. He pulled his hand away, leaving John's fingers feeling oddly cold, to pick one up.

"These are hopes and dreams, Johnny. People send me their hopes and dreams and beg me to help them achieve them. I help their dreams come true... And take a tiny profit along the way..." Jim explained, his voice soft and rapturous. "This is your job now, too... Are you up to the task?"

John looked down at the letters and then to Jim, a small but genuine smile on his face.

"I think this will be the best job I've ever had..." he replied with a little laugh. Jim nodded, smiling wider.

"Listen to this one... Ahem... Dear Jim, my mother is on her death bed and has left her entire estate to my brother because he's married, and I am not. It's really not fair. Please, fix it for me." he read the letter dramatically, pouting a little at the end. "Poor man, really is getting the short end of the stick."

John raised a brow.

"Sounds like a whiny git to me." John commented. "You aren't really going to help him are you?"

Jim snorted and gave John a knowing look.

"Of course not. It's not nearly interesting enough. It's a two at best on my scale of one to ten." Jim explained, tossing the letter back onto the table. John tilted his head and looked closer at the letters.

"None of these look very interesting..." John said with furrowed brows. Jim nodded with a sigh.

"I suppose I'll have to stir up something interesting myself..." Jim said, sifting through the letters. He plucked one from the pile.

"Dear Jim, I am a man with little time left and children to think of... I drive a cab for a living, which is a less than profitable living. I want to leave them something they can survive one. Please help me. I've run out of options..." Jim read aloud. John tilted his head and furrowed his brows.

"That could be interesting." John commented calmly. Jim raised a brow and looked over at John.

"How so, Johnny?" he asked softly.

"What if you pay him to kill his riders. The more he does, the more money he makes for his children. How far will he be willing to go...?" John offered up. Jim's eyes sparkled as he looked at John with wonder and admiration.

"Brilliant idea... And I know just how to make it even better..." Jim said, swiping the other letters from the table with a swish of his arm. He set the letter down before him and sighed contently. John couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at having his idea accepted. The look of excitement on Jim's face warmed John right down to his toes. As Agnes brought in their dinner and a bottle of wine, John decided that Sebastian was right.

This was the best job he'd ever had.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Don't forget to review! <strong>_


	3. Drunk

_**Wow guys. I am really moved by your kind words and wonderful reviews. I'm giving a sort of "half-update" since I've been pretty busy lately. I just want you all to know how much I appreciate all your feedback and your condolences were so beautiful. I'm well at work on this story since "Persistence of Memory" is now drawing to a close. A lot of my fics coming up are going to be Jim/John. There's just not enough of it! Am I right? I'm excited for where this is headed. So please! Enjoy! And thanks again. Mwah!**_

**Heartbeats**

**Chapter Three**

**Drunk**

The night progressed so unexpectedly well that John was almost in shock at how comfortable and happy he was. Over dinner they'd discussed politics, after dinner they drank a bottle of wine together and discussed films, telly, art, music. Anything and everything that came to mind. After they'd gone through the wine and the hour was growing incredibly late, Jim suggested John get to bed. Despite the way his eyes drooped and his body sagged with sleepiness, John protested weakly at first. After some convincing from Jim, in a fit of giggles they headed upstairs together and Jim showed John to his bedroom. Jim tugged John down the hall, a smirk on his lips. John, head swimming from his pleasantly drunk state, simply allowed himself to be along for the ride. Jim stopped in front of a door at the very end of the hall, and pushed it open with a clumsy attempt at flair in his movements. He too was wonderfully drunk from all the wine they'd consumed, and his cheeks were flushed from it.

John took in the sight of the lushly decorated room and whistled low. The bed was large, made up with satin sheets and feather down duvet. It was a room decorated with rich golds and deep blues. It looked more like a room for royalty and not a humble army-doctor-turned-criminal. John turned to Jim and shook his head.

"This is... Too much. Too big. Too grand." John mumbled, blushing as Jim took hold of the lapels of his jacket.

"No no, Johnny. Nothing but the best for my men. When you work for Moriarty, you learn to appreciate the perks..." Jim replied, tapping John's nose playfully with his fingertip. John chuckled softly.

"This is more than a perk..." he stated teasingly. Jim giggled and shook his head, tipping back a little. John caught Jim around his waist with both arms.

"Hm. Jim maybe I should be putting _you _to bed..." John teased. Jim slowly pulled his head back up and met John's eyes.

"You'll get your chance Johnny boy... But when you do... we'll both be sober. Of that I assure you..." Jim replied playfully. John felt himself blushing as he thought of the implications of what Jim just said. His heart was pounding in his chest and he pulled Jim tighter against him, swallowing nervously and licking his lips.

Jim chuckled through his nose and his head lolled as he did his best to keep it up.

"I think you've rather shown your hand, Doctor Watson..." he teased, leaning in close to John's ear to whisper. "Though if I were you, I'd be aching to kiss me too..."

John inhaled sharply and let Jim pull out of his arms. Jim winked at him and pecked John's cheek.

"Get some sleep Johnny. Big day tomorrow." Jim lilted, patting John's chest as he walked past him, heading to his own bedroom. "Nighty night."

John stood in the hallway, in a strange form of shock for a little while, before he entered his room and collapsed fully clothed on the plush bed and fell immediately into the waiting arms of unconsciousness.

When John woke the next morning it was to the sharp sound of an alarm clock. It was nine o'clock in the morning already. It felt like only moments ago he'd laid his head down. He pushed himself off the duvet and wiped the bit of drool from his chin that had formed in the night. He looked around with bleary eyes and took in the sight of the room around him as he flailed one arm blindly at the alarm. When he finally was able to shut it off successfully he felt somehow triumphant. He took a deep breath and tried his best to piece together the fog of the previous day. It all felt like a distant dream. He reached up and touched his cheek where Jim had kissed it the night before and felt himself blushing heavily as his own behavior came flooding back to him.

He wasn't allowed to wallow in embarrassment for long. There was a sharp knock on his door, immediately followed by the door swinging open. In walked Agnes, in her arms was a garment bag and on her face a stern look.

"Get up, get washed up, and put on this. Jim expects you ready for breakfast in forty minutes." she said sharply, pulling open a wooden armoire and hanging the garment bag inside. John nodded dumbly and looked around.

"Where should I... Wash up?" John asked, at risk of sounding like a complete fool. Agnes gestured to a door on the other side of the room and John got up to go inspect it. Upon opening the door he found what looked like a master bathroom. Standalone shower, jacuzzi bath, his and hers sinks (though he had no real use for them) and a pair of robes hung from a rack that also held wash clothes and towels. It was simply gorgeous. John shouldn't have expected anything less. He chuckled and shook his head as he walked over to the sink to find he toiletries he'd brought had already been laid out for him. He quickly stripped down, showered off, and went about his morning routine.

In the garment bag he found a three piece charcoal suit, baby blue silk shirt, and navy blue silk tie, and white gold tie clip. John dressed in the expensive suit carefully and barely had three minutes to spare to get downstairs when he was finished. Jim was waiting in for him in the dining room, tea and biscuits set out as he looked over the morning papers from London, Berlin, Paris, and New York City.

"Good morning." John greeted quietly, not quite sure what to do with himself. Jim looked up from his papers and smiled briefly.

"Good morning, John. I trust you slept well." Jim returned, looking right back to his paper. "Wonderful timing. Breakfast should be coming out any moment."

John nodded and poured himself a cup of tea as he watched Jim scan each paper. It was a quick process, as if Jim were a machine. He then tossed the papers over the back of his chair in a huff.

"It's all so _boring _John." he huffed, looking over at his companion. John nodded in agreement.

"I know." John agreed. Jim narrowed his eyes and he looked at John speculatively for a moment and then, cracked a sudden grin.

"Yes. I suppose you do. You wouldn't be here otherwise." Jim replied, reaching over and giving John's shoulder a squeeze. "I suppose we'll have to stir up some fun for ourselves, won't we?"

John glanced at Jim's hand and then he met Jim's eyes. His heart began to race and his mouth felt dry.

"What did you have in mind...?" John inquired, his voice tight. Jim gave a soft laugh.

"I think I'd like to blow something up..." Jim replied with a sort of whimsical sigh. "But it's no fun to just do things for no reason..."

John chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I'm sure you'll find a reason to blow something up soon enough." John encouraged. "In the mean time, maybe we can just go shoot something. That always helps me blow off some steam. Or maybe we could rob a bank."

John's tone implied he was joking, but Jim was sort of excited by the idea.

"Rob a bank. Sounds fun. But we have an appointment with our desperate cabby today. Let's file that idea away for a rainy day, shall we?" Jim suggested with a wink. John nodded in agreement and felt himself blushing. It wasn't until breakfast was brought in that John could bring himself to look away from Jim's face...

_**Don't forget to review!**_


	4. Cabby

_**Hey guys! Sorry for the delay. I had someone visiting me over their spring break and got too busy to write. It was hard to get back into the swing of things! This is a brief update. I've also been working on the sequel to "The Persistence of Memory" as well as this fic so I'm doing the best I can to juggle everything at once. I'm so excited to have so much support for this fic! It's awesome! I love all you based purely on the fact that you are Jim/John lovers! So anyway, enjoy this next chapter and don't forget to leave me some love! **_

**Heartbeats**

**Chapter Four**

**Cabby**

John sat beside Jim at a plain looking table in a nameless hotel room, Sebastian standing beside them with a suitcase in hand. Before them was the shabbiest looking man John had ever seen. Old, worn down, and somewhat hunched, the man wouldn't meet the eyes of any of them. He seemed a tad ashamed of himself, and John could understand why that was. _Weary, dying, and can't hope to leave anything behind for your children, you turn to a criminal mastermind... You poor old sod. We'll look after you..._

Moriarty seemed to read these thoughts on John's face and he broke the silence with a soft chuckle, reaching over and squeezing John's shoulder. Moriarty stood and approached their client.

"If you want to leave anything for your children, I'm happy to help. However... My services are _not _free. I have a stipulation..." Moriarty replied calmly. The old man looked up at Moriarty with wary but determined eyes.

"Figured you migh'..." the man answered softly. Moriarty chuckled.

"How intelligent are you, Mister Cabby? Hm? Do you think you could outwit most of your clients?" Moriarty inquired. "I can tell just but your body language that you think you're smarter than either of my men, and probably think you're smarter than me..."

Moriarty's eyes were wild as the Cabby met his gaze intently.

"I know the blonde bloke there is ex military, probably a doctor or nurse... If that's the case I'd say you like the thrill of holding other's lives in your hands. The dark haired fellow is also ex military, but by the looks of him, I'd say dishonorable discharge lead him into his present company." the old man confessed.

Sebastian and John both shifted uncomfortably at being read so easily. Moriarty seemed to be lighting up with excitement. John enjoyed seeing his boss so gleeful. There was a darkness to Moriarty's eyes that gave John goosebumps and he tuned everything else out. Everything but the madman faded away. Moriarty motioned for the case and Sebastian handed it over.

"Well... Since you seem to be so good at reading people... Here's what I want you to do. I want you to play a game with people..." Moriarty opened the case and revealed two sets of bottles with identical pills inside all of them. "The bottles I have tied a red ribbon around contain a deadly dose of chemicals... The ones with blue ribbons have sugar inside. Remove the ribbons and sit down with your opponent of choice. You can pick anyone you like really... And place the bottles on the table. And in a... Princess Bride esque challenge, ask them to chose a bottle. Then take the bottles together. The more people you beat, the more money I put in your bank account."

The cabby looked hesitant at first, but then, he reached out. Moriarty snapped the case shut and handed it over to him.

"Pleasure doing business with you..." the old man said quietly, and then, Moriarty waved him out the door. Once the man was gone Moriarty huffed a sigh and turned to Sebastian.

"You are dismissed Mister Moran. I know you have... other things to attend to." he urged calmly. Sebastian merely nodded before heading out the door. Once it was shut Moriarty's eyes were on John. A dark smirk was tugging at Jim's lips and John found himself swallowing uneasily. The look in those dark eyes was now on him, and John could hardly explain the strange excitement he felt. It was moments later that Jim was crossing the small space between them. He snatched at the arms of John's chair and dipped his head, his face stopping mere inches from John's own. John's breath hitched and he shivered a little.

"I think we work well together... Our plan... Is so elegant and interesting. I couldn't have thought it up on my own... Well. More than likely I could have. But you gave me the idea... So. How should I properly thank you?"

Jim's voice was like honey, thick and sweet, and John could smell his cologne and natural musk so well at this distance he found himself responding rather embarrassingly.

"Kiss me." John rasped, his voice trembling as Jim pressed in, their lips meeting in a crushing, heat-sting. It sent jolts of excitement and arousal all through John's body and he didn't hesitate to part his lips when Jim's tongue was pressing against them. Jim kissed like a horny co-ed: fervent and tactless, but what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm. John enjoyed it and was endeared by it; he even dared to reach up to slide his hands up Jim's chest. Jim pressed against the touch, giving a soft gasp of approval at the contact. John forced himself to break away and gasped for breath, tipping his head back. That was all the invitation Moriarty needed. That same fervent kissing was now attacking John's throat and he couldn't help but groan in response. He grabbed at the lapels of Moriarty's suit, getting lost in the feel of it. It was like they were picking up right where they left off. Moriarty's lips slowly made their way up to John's ear and John was on edge with anticipation. Everything seemed to come to a standstill and slow down as Moriarty's lips stopped and they both just took in the sound of the other man breathing.

"Thank you." came a husky whisper from Moriarty. John shivered, and then, Jim was pulling away and straightening his clothes as if nothing had happened.

"Come along, John. We've got another appointment. MIss Adler is expecting us." Moriarty said, all business. John was panting and his mind was trying to catch up with what had just taken place. He saw Jim leaving and his legs moved of their own accord and he was following behind him. Though his gate was a tad awkward to accommodate his own excitement.

_If I didn't know any better I'd say he planned this... _John thought to himself as he stayed a couple steps behind Jim all the way out to the car to hide his shame.

_**Don't forget to review!**_


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